10 Days of Insomia
by qwaszxedc9
Summary: Brook is the new nakama of the Strawhat crew. Isn't he? How does he adjust to knowing that there are and there will be nakama beside him? Or is it a lie? Brook torture! Angst all the way! Rated for attempted suicide and dark thoughts.
1. Day 1

******Yo! Qwaszxedc9 here! XD**

**Thanks for clicking on this! I'm grateful to you all! :)**

**I'm very sorry but I will not be updating very often for now. There's this demon called Exams roaming around and I must do battle. ****After I purge this demon, I will update very quickly!**

**I might change the number of days for my title. It's still in working progress. Any suggestions are welcome.**

**I own nothing but what I create here.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Left Trailer Bark. Day 1 Afternoon

His half-empty tea cup rested gently on his lap.

It felt as if there was too much to do, too much to see, too much to enjoy. It felt... Peaceful... Surreal...

Maybe, he thought, it didn't feel surreal, but was surreal.

Somehow, he figured, the tight clutches of sleep might release him from this torture, to be able to see, feel, experience joys he knew would disappear soon.

Would it?

Would it disappear too? Just like before when he watched his captain and his crew fade away into the black, foggy sea?

What do you think, Laboon?

That fist sized shell, it weighed so heavily in his pocket.

Their last song.

Will it be delivered now? Or is this grass, this wood, this new ship, this new crew, is it another dream? Yet another fragment of his brutal imagination within his craving mind?

A vicious hallucination?

Those fifty years, alone, desperate dreams of his nakama within his traitorious mind haunting him every other day.

Now he has new dreams, a new group of nakama... Are they also simply within his mind?

Was that captain he had pledged his life to yet another piece of his fickle imagination?

It's really realistic. He's impressed at how far his mind will go to haunt him.

He remains still, seated neatly on the bench beside the main mast. The sun rose hours ago. With his tea cup lifted, trails of steam floating up, his hollow eyes trail from the cup to the trio bouncing past, playing catch or something.

He stares.

"Brook! Come play with us~!" The captain yells. The two at his side nod furiously.

He stares.

He smiles.

"Yohohoho! Of course, Luffy-san." He grins, setting his half-empty cup down onto the bench.

He shall enjoy this dream while he can.

It will disappear soon anyway.

* * *

Day 1 Night

Sleep seemed distant, too far, even though the others are already ready to knock off.

He should be feeling sleepy. Why does he not?

Maybe this was his mind's way of telling him that this was but a dream? That none of it was real?

Afterall, you don't feel sleepy in dreams.

"Brook... Draw a straw... We need to figure out who's taking which watch.." The sleepy navigator shoved a bunch of straws into his face.

He stared.

"Of course, Nami-san. Excuse me, but may I see your pa-" He managed to grasp a straw, before he was bodily hurled across the deck by an angry, high-heeled foot.

"As if!" The navigator screeched, before walking up to him and snatching his straw. She paused for a moment.

"Kay, you got third watch, just before sunrise. Zoro should wake you up after his second watch." She stated before stomping away, presumably to assign all the watches over the next few days, and going to sleep.

He sat down on the bench, half-empty tea cup seated beside him, as he watched his nakama before him.

He smiled, then shifted over to pull out a violin. Music was his joy, laughter and his support. He should make his dream a tad bit more enjoyable. He lifted his arm.

"Yohohoho~! Allow me to play a lullaby for everyone!" He pulled his arm back gently, the deck radiating with soothing melodies. The entire crew slowed down their movements, enjoying the music, but making their way to bed. The swordsman was already snoring against the railing.

Soon, the deck was empty of all but the sniper, who had the first watch, and the swordsman, who had already fallen asleep.

He continued playing for a while, listening to the melody calm his own nerves. Soon he finished, and the violin was kept. The sniper, sensing that the piece was over, climbed up onto the crow's nest to begin his watch.

He placed his violin aside, then silently crossed the grass lawn. Sleep was still as cruel as ever, not allowing him the luxury of feeling the least bit sleepy.

He entered the men's cabin, silently as ever, and crawled into a hammock.

Maybe if he tried to sleep, he might finally wake. The false hope that this mere accompaniment might be real was eating at him.

Was it?

He stared at the ceiling, black and dark shapes were all that could be seen by the eye.

Though he had none, some part of his brain joked.

Though he had no brain~ Yohohoho...

He stared.

The door slid open, what sounded like the sniper tiptoed in, trying to be silent but failing quite miserably. That didn't hinder anyone's sleep, fortunately, and the sharpshooter climbed into the lower hammock, asleep within seconds.

At his side he listens to the quiet, of the crew, along with an occasional mumble of unintelligible sleep talk, as well as several different pitches of snoring.

The ceiling was still gazing at him with shadowy forms

He stared.

His mind still wouldn't let him wake. He knew if this dream continued any longer, he might not be able to take it when he finally awoke. Sleep herself saw it fit to oversee his torture.

He stared.

Third watch should be right around now, so why hasn't the swordsman come to wake him?

He sat up, slid over his covers and landed lightly onto the ground. Taking great care not to make any noise, he slid over the cabin floor and gently tugged at the door handle.

The cool night breeze caressed his bones the moment he stepped out. He glanced around, before moving to climb up to the crow's nest, pushing the trapdoor open.

It was brightly lit.

The swordsman was snoring against the window.

He smiles.

The sun should rise soon.

He wonders how long dreams can last.

* * *

**Reviews are like cookies.**

**They taste good,**

**feel good,**

**make you addicted to them**

**and encourage you to work faster.**


	2. Day 2

******Yo! Qwaszxedc9 here! XD**

******I took awhile! And here's the next chapter!**

******Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Day 2 Morning

The sky glowed orange, tinted with hints of red within dark blue.

Leaning against a window, he watches.

The sun is rising.

He stares.

The crew has already began trailing out of the cabins one by one. The cook being the earliest to rise, followed by the navigator and the archaeologist, the former immediately checking their course.

He yawns.

How realistic.

The sunrise.

It's bright.

The rest of the crew trickles out through the door, the shipwright yelling about a SUPER~ night's rest, the doctor sleepily trotting over to the infirmary, the sniper and the captain bursting out of the door, the latter yelling about breakfast.

How very detailed.

"Nami-swan~! Robin-chwan~! Breakfast is ready~!" The cook swoons and noodles around, bubbling with visible hearts.

"You shitheads can come eat too." The cook casually adds, lighting up a cigarette, seeming unwilling and forced, though he knew otherwise.

He vaguely notices shuffling behind him. The swordsman is already up.

"Let's go. The prissy cook is gonna start bitching if we're late." The swordsman says, hands already opening the trapdoor.

He stares.

He smiles.

"Of course, Zoro-san." He replies.

* * *

Day 2 Noon

It's a wonder, this aquarium.

The shimmering gold shining on the bed of the aquarium, like tiny little snakes wriggling across the surface and the bed of the tank.

Countless glimmering, elegant fishes sliding and gliding around in their clear shimmering surroundings, all of a variety of colours, shapes, sizes.

Different shades of green, red seaweed dance and sway gracefully, parting slightly as the fishes glide through their leaves.

Such a sensational view surrounding the little room, almost makes him jealous he couldn't swim.

He yawns.

Looking closely, he notices a group of oddly coloured and oddly shaped fishes, odd liquid or ink swirling around them. He moves closer.

Ah, those odd fishes are squids and poisonous sea creatures.

He stares.

Said squids and poisonous sea creatures seemed to be surrounding the sniper swimming in the beautiful aquarium, enclosing the sniper in a circle of odd creatures, much like a target of sorts.

He strolls over, placing a bony hand over the polished glass.

"...Ano, Robin-san... Those dangerous creatures seem to be about to ambush Usopp-san, and Luffy-san seems to be cheering them on." He states, jaw dropping slightly as those dangerous creatures seemed to strengthen their ring of defence.

"Oh, no need to worry. These things happen every other day." The archaeologist states smoothly, not even glancing up as elegant fingers flipped a page.

Those creatures launched onto the sniper, wrapping the entire sniper in black and purple.

"Erm... Robin-san, those dangerous creatures seemed to have ambushed Usopp-san." He states, watching as the sniper struggled fruitlessly, barely visible, within the huge cocoon of poisonous sea creatures.

Splash!

He watches as the captain sinks to the bottom of the aquarium, bubbles escaping from the mouth and arms twitching lightly.

He stares.

"Ah. Luffy-san seems to have fallen in." He comments. The captain was slowly sinking towards the bed, swirling bubbles of air sounding the fellow hammer.

Clink! Thump! Splash!

He stares.

"Ah... Zoro-san seems to have fallen in as well." He adds, placing his bony face closer to the glass.

The swordsman rushed towards the sinking captain, grabbing the collar and swinging the captain out through the trapdoor. The swordsman then swam toward the sniper, pulling one foot back and slamming it into the cocoon of sea creatures, shooting the sniper out through the trapdoor together with a few wriggling sea creatures.

A girlish shriek was heard.

He stares.

"See? Nothing to worry about." The archaeologist elegantly states, smiling gently as graceful fingers turned yet another page.

He stares.

He smiles.

Of course.

No worries.

Absolutely nothing to worry about.

There's no one there to die afterall.

* * *

Day 2 Evening

The evening sky is, to say the least, breathtaking.

How surprising.

He never thought himself that imaginative, to be able to paint such a beautiful scenery within his mind.

The orange, glowing streaks painted across the sky along with light shades of purple and dabs of red and yellow in the dark blue background of the sky. Fluffy, darkening yet glowing clouds swirled around, surrounding the soft, round orange glow of the setting sun. Long wiggling lengths of lights danced over the surface of the sea, glittering the water surface.

A long, swift breeze tugged at his afro, caressing invisible, cool fingers against his bones.

He stared.

Lifting his arms, he snatched his top hat out of the air, where the wind had playfully carried it off for its amusement.

The captain was not as lucky.

"Boshi!" A splash.

"Ah Luffy! You'll drown!" A squeak, another splash.

Isn't the doctor a hammer?

"Oi You idiots!" Clanging of swords thrown against wood, and yet another splash.

"Shitty bastards!" Rustle of a jacket, thumping of shoes against grass and yet one more splash.

He stared.

In less than three seconds, four men had gone overboard.

What a surprise.

The archaeologist was right.

He strolls over to the railing.

There was no one in sight. Somehow the waters didn't seem as dazzling as before.

He stares.

No worries, he tells himself.

They can't die if they're not alive.

"Oi Brook... You okay?" The sniper was sitting beside the railing, relaxed.

As if there weren't any worries that those overboard might die.

Well, he supposed, that might be true.

Fragments of one's imagination aren't real enough to die. Fade maybe, but not die.

He smiles.

This incident reminds him so clearly of that fond, and slightly... irritating, memory of his wondrous experience in the sea after eating that, at that point of time, utterly useless devil fruit.

He remembers it clearly; Him spinning around and tripping, Yorki yelling at him about idiotic hammers and useless devil fruits. He remembers it clearly, like it was yesterday.

When did that happen? Was it yesterday?

But years have since passed, he thought. Years since they had to abandon their captain and those others to sail the calm-

It doesn't matter.

It is but a memory.

Or maybe it wasn't?

It was growing difficult to separate reality, imagination, fiction and dreams.

Or were they all the same thing?

He stares at the two crew members swimming back towards the ship with the captain and the doctor in tow, yelling at the others for rope, or in the cook's case, swooning at the ladies to fall in love with his bravery, asking if they loved him, even in the water.

He stares down, watching the waves frolic around in their clear blue paradise.

That time when he had fallen in, Yorki had jumped in immediately after, scooping him up from deep underwater, and yelling at him for turning into such a dumbass hammer.

Maybe he should just fall in again, on the off chance Yorki might just come after him.

He stares.

No, that wouldn't do.

That might just banish him from this wonderful dream his mind had so thoughtfully conjured.

And abandon him in that dark, dark mist.

He watches as the crew members climb up the rope.

He stares.

He knows he would wake up soon.

Dreams are but dreams.

They never last.

The cook kicks the captain into the wall, the navigator yelling at the top of her voice about idiotic hammers and dumbass captains, the doctor immobile on the grass.

How familiar.

How painful.

How nostalgic.

He awaits yet another sleepless night.

* * *

**Reviews are like cookies.**

**They taste good,**

**feel good,**

**make you addicted to them**

**and encourage you to work faster.**


	3. Day 3

******Yo! Qwaszxedc9 here! XD**

******Thanks for reading this~!**

* * *

Day 3 Morning

It seemed even in nightmares there are sliver linings.

Now's particular sliver lining would be breakfast.

Breakfast with the Strawhats was always incredibly entertaining.

It was always a battle of defence and offence that determined whether or not you could eat to your fill. Should concentration be lost for but a moment, you would find your plate cleared.

Unless of course you were a lady.

Rubber hands seemed to crawl to every corner of the table, snatching up any unguarded bits of food.

Many a times those hands breached the not-so-solid defences of the crew.

The male portion of the crew, he noticed, unintentionally piled more than enough food for themselves onto their plate. Far more than enough.

They didn't seem to notice.

He turned to glance at the plate next to him, which belonged to the archaeologist, and was wonderfully decorated to finest detail, complete with thin, juicy slices of sweet oranges.

"Excuse me, Robin-san. Your plate seems much more bountiful. Would you mind exchang-" He didn't managed to finish his sentence before an iron-forced kick slammed directly onto his skull.

"Eat you own portion! There are seconds!" The furious yell from the cook seemed slightly muffled from the kick, and the fact that he's laying on the ground.

"How harsh!~" He screeched, watching as the rest of the crew broke out in laughter. The captain especially loudly, with a mouthful of food, or two mouthfuls.

He sat back up, and paused.

His plate was now empty.

Even his half-empty tea cup.

"Ehh!... The food disappeared!" He screeched in bewilderment, though he had a very good idea where the food went.

"Shishishi!... That was good!" The captain smiled through several mouthfuls of food. A black shoe dug into the rubber captain's face.

"You eat your own portion too! Stop stealing!" The cook shouted, placing that heavy foot down.

"No way! I want more food!" The captain whines.

Through the bickering between the cook and the captain, he yawns, only barely.

"Musician-san, are you tired?" The archaeologist beside him asks, sharp eyes curious and maybe slightly worried. He smiles brightly.

Yohohoho~! No worries! I'm perfectly fine!" He laughs, waving his arms cheerfully.

None of this is real, none of it will be, his mind reminds him, but he ignores. He picks up his guitar.

It would be nice if it lasted longer.

"Yohohoho~! How about a tune to go along with this lovely meal?" He suggests, holding up his guitar. The captain beams.

"Play that one about the sake! I like that one!" The captain shouts enthusiastically. He smiles.

"Yohohoho~ Certainly." He beams, and begins playing.

So much warmth, so much joy, so much care.

This dream is a little saddening, to be honest.

* * *

Day 3 Afternoon

The marines must have a lot of free time on their hands.

So much so that they can send less than skilled soldiers to chase after more than skilled pirates.

His thoughts were interrupted by a random marine trying to launch himself on him. He swings his sword swiftly upwards to slice him across his chest, and topples him, whilst humming softly.

Glancing up, he is aware that most of the marines have fallen, their commanding officer shot far from the ship in a gomu-gomu no rocket.

He felt, maybe, slightly lethargic, or fatigued.

Crack.

The sudden, sharp pain stabs through his leg. It tears like heavy friction, as if a sword was buried through the bone of his foot.

A sword is buried into his left foot. Straight through his bones. Whilst he was standing still.

The pain registers like a slap. He is not so much surprised by the pain, but only that he does feel it. It hurts.

He is aware that the marine guilty of stabbing his foot was kicked off the ship by the cook, and that there is an extremely panicky furry doctor jumping around below him.

"Ah! Brook! Your foot! Call a doctor!" The tiny doctor flails his hoofs around, the fact that he was the doctor seemed to slip his mind.

"Erm... Chopper... You're the doctor..." The sniper was inclined to comment, from his hiding spot at the corner of course.

"Oh. Brook! Stay still! I'll have to pull out the sword!" The tiny doctor squeaks as he bendsdown, and turned into his human form. He reached for the sword, smoothly pulling it out, rattling it slightly and causing painful friction to his bones.

But he feels it. That sharp, flaring pain.  
The pain of living.

Is this not a dream? A vivid, realistic, beautiful, surreal dream?

Will it not be gone the moment his eyes dare to shut?

"Brook! Are you alright? You need to come to the infirmary!" The little doctor turns around.

"Sanji! He needs milk! Bring two bottles to the infirmary!" He is suddenly aware that he was being flung over the big doctor's shoulders.

He still feels the pain. It is nearly intoxicating.

"Yohohoho~! Don't worry, Chopper-san! The knife didn't even pierce the skin. Though I have none. Yohohoho~! Skull joke~!" He laughs over the big doctor's shoulders, watching as all the other crewmates visibly relaxed slightly.

The big doctor was, however, very insistent on bringing him to the infirmary. He complied.

He watched as the little doctor soaked his foot in milk, making it as good as new, even shinier maybe. He stared.

The pain had left. All that remained was a numb feeling in his bones, and a slightly chilled feeling from the milk itself.

The pain was gone.

Was it also his vicious imagination that concocted such a hopeful feeling, only to snatch it away right after?

He smiled.

"Yohohoho... Thank you, Chopper-san. You're a great doctor." He praised, reaching towards the side. The doctor started blushing and dancing.

"Bastard~ I'm not happy at all that you said I'm a great doctor~! You jerk~" The tiny doctor wiggled around, trying and failing to not be embarrassed at his praise.

He pulled out a guitar.

"Allow me to show my gratitude though a beautiful song! Yohohoho~!" He drummed his fingers down, producing a catchy tune that sounded through the infirmary doors.

He started singing.

The pain. He had felt it.

Was this not a dream?

* * *

Day 3 Night

The little doctor had insisted that he not place any weight on his previously injured foot, and even insisted on wrapping it.

That seemed like such a waste of clean, sterilized bandages, but he wasn't inclined to comment.

There is no flesh to heal, no blood to clot, no wound to close.

Any evidence of a wound disappeared. As if that stabbing incident never happened.

As if it never existed.

Honestly it was quite a waste.

"Brook! I said not to play with Luffy!" The tiny doctor dashed over, waving his hoofs around in what was supposed to be an angry manner.

He smiled.

"Yohohoho~. Don't worry, Chopper-san. It was merely a game of hide and seek. And my foot doesn't feel any pain." He reasons. There is no pain. None at all.

"No! Stop playing and go sleep! Usopp and Luffy have first and second watch together so they are staying up! You just recovered from your injury so sleep!" The little doctor insisted in that 'doctor' voice, one that no patient disobeyed apart from the swordsman.

He bends down slightly to pat the doctor on the head.

"Yohohoho~ No worries! I'll go lie in bed now." He says, smiling as the little doctor beams.

He turns, heading toward the cabin door as he hears squeaks of "Rest your foot!" from behind.

He yawns.

The moon is bright overhead, gleaming down as if to burn into his mind that this is surreal. He glances up.

The piercing shine from that full, whole moon is terribly, terribly bright.

He opens the door slowly, as if it might trouble the shadows and empty space within.

No one has gone to bed yet. It's awfully empty.

He climbs up to his hammock, pulls the covers slightly over his legs. Laying down, he watches as the shadows above wave and dance randomly.

He shifts his legs slightly, as if trying to pull forth some relieving measure of pain from his previously wounded foot.

There is none.

Could he have imagined it? The pain?

The door is lightly pushed open. There is that gentle tapping footsteps that originate from none other than the little doctor, first to arrive most probably to check if he was resting. The hammock sways, leaning slightly toward the right as the little doctor peeked in.

He stays still. The hammock is released, bouncing up lightly.

He supposes that being asleep would most likely put the little doctor's mind at ease, believing him to be sleeping off his non-existent injuries.

He hears the tapping footstep rhythm again, then the sound of much heavier boots scraping against the ground slowly dragged in, along with an undeniable clank of metal against metal, before a light thunk on the ground and the unmistakable and immediate snores of the swordsman leaning against the wall.

The tapping rhythm stopped short of the edge of the hammock, then a slightly heavier push and the hammock shakes, with the little doctor tugged in, gradually slowing to simple, gentle, inevitable swaying.

Almost immediately an unintentional stomping of bare, heavy feet echoes across the cabin. The hammock dips and bounces heavily as the shipwright climbs on.

The door is suddenly but lightly pulled shut, and the scraping of leather and metal against wood is prominent. The light but firm footsteps suddenly pause directly beside him, and traces of cigarettes smoke float directly over him, the cook bending over to observe him.

He stays still.

How strange.

He wonders what the cook is doing.

Checking if he was asleep?

The cook wouldn't be able to tell if he was awake. These empty eye sockets snatched that privilege away.

The cigarette scent is gone. He guesses that the cigarette had been tossed.

The cook tenses for a moment, cursing under his breath as he straightened. And maybe put out the cigarette.

That moment passes and the footsteps resumes, slowing down suddenly before reaching the hammocks. The planks creak a little.

He is curious. What is the cook doing-?

Shink. Clank!

"What the hell, aho-cook?!" A shout echoes through the cabin.

"Don't block the way by sleeping in front of my hammock, shitty-marimo!" The cook shouted back.

Clink! Shink! Clank! Thunk!

"Curlicue! Don't disturb people's sleep!" Chink!

"Then don't block the way with your marimo-head! Crap-swordsman!" Thunk!

"I wasn't blocking the way! Are you blind?! Dart-brow!" Clang!

Clink! Crash!

"Moss-brain!" Clank!

"Love-cook!" Shing!

"National treasure!" Creak! Crash!

"Magic-eyebrow!" Clank! Clink!

"Oi! There are people trying to sleep here! You guys are SUPER noisy!"

He blinks.

The daily routines of the strawhat crew.

It's somewhat nostalgic. Like when he and his crewmates used to fight over nothing.

Those skeletons in that lovely grave.

His chest feels slightly empty.

Though that might be because he has no chest! Skull joke~!

How nostalgic.

His mind is cruel.

Soon the fight between the swordsman and the cook stops, due to the fact that the shipwright has threatened to call the navigator in. The whole crew, even the captain, knows how frightening a sleep-deprived and cranky navigator can get.

Well, the swordsman isn't really frightened of her, but maybe of her fickle habit to suddenly add unreasonably reasonable interest to his already exceeding payable boundaries debt. Only maybe.

And the cook isn't really frightened either, but prefers not to disturb his precious and gracious navigator with the annoyance of an uncultured moss-headed neanderthal.

Soon the crew calms down, and they all turn in. Snores echo through the cabin.

He shuts his non-existent eyelids.

Sleep still doesn't come. He opens them again, and watches the shadows dance.

He stares.

He imagines Laboon. The little whale was around the size of a tiny boat when they left him. He wonders how large he has grown. Maybe as huge as a mountain? How large a mountain then?

He stares.

And stares

The door slams open. Light shuffling of quick feet across the ground before it the feet seemed to take a huge leap.

"Zoro! It's your turn! Wake up!" The captain yells. There is a slightly annoyed huff.

"Oi Luffy! I told you not to jump onto me!" The swordsman shouts, sounding a little annoyed.

"Alright Zoro-kun! The great captain Usopp now requires you to take over our gallant services!" The sniper says, trying to sound smug.

"Whatever, go sleep." The swordsman says, waving them off as he stood up, swords clanking slightly against each other.

The door is pushed open, then shut again.

The captain and the sniper both hop into their beds simultaneously, as if not really caring about waking anyone up.

Usually the sniper would be more careful, he muses. Must be because of the captain.

The hammocks rock from side to side as the two hop on. It's a wonder how no one seemed to be disturbed by the noise and movements.

He stares.

Today has been more eventful, he supposes.

It almost seemed like three days already. How long has he been asleep on his broken ship?

He stares.

Sleep is cruel.

He yawns.

The sun should rise soon.

* * *

**Reviews are like cookies.**

**They taste good,**

**feel good,**

**make you addicted to them**

**and encourage you to work faster.**


	4. Day 4

**Yo! Qwaszxedc9 here! XD**

** After much pain and effort, presenting... Day 4 of Brook torture!**

**To my anonymous reviewer called i: Sorry I had to take this long to post a new chapter, but I did state that I would take a while to post. Also, I kinda don't really understand your question about the 9 days. But thanks for reviewing anyways!**

**To my other anonymous reviewer Recurring Guest: Thanks for your reviews! I already have the entire story planned out, so no worries! In fact, the entire crew will help! *slight spoiler alert***

**Slightly shorter, but enjoy!**

* * *

Day 4 Morning

It seemed that whenever the swordsman took watch, it could almost be equivalent to having none at all.

The swordsman would most likely be fast asleep throughout his entire watch.

That's what he arrived to find when he was asked to call the swordsman for breakfast.

The swordsman snoring.

He is slightly jealous.

Sleep seemed so peaceful, and cruel.

Cruel enough to tempt him with something she knows he won't receive.

He squads down, his bones slightly heavy from fatigue.

"Zoro-san, Sanji-san is calling for breakfast." He says, adding a hint of amusement into his tone. The swordsman blinks.

"Huh? Morning already?" The swordsman asks drowsily. He nods.

"Yes, Zoro-san." He replies, standing up.

He yawns.

The swordsman blinks, then stares at him with narrowed eyes.

"You're still awake?" The swordsman asks, staring intently.

Would the swordsman be asking about whether he's been awake throughout the night, or would he be asking about whether he supposedly woke up early?

Most likely the latter.

He isn't sure how to answer that.

Why would it matter to his imagination anyway?

Moving toward the trapdoor, he bends over to push it up. He glances back.

He smiles.

Yes, it mattered not.

The swordsman frowns.

He yawns.

And he climbs down.

* * *

Day 4 Afternoon

He yawns.

It suddenly struck him, but why does he yawn? He is neither awake enough to be sleepy, or sleepy enough to be awake to yawn.

He doesn't even require oxygen for his brain to survive.

He also has none.

Yohohoho~! Skull joke~!

He held that barrel tight, weighing heavily on his lethargic bones. It's quite the heavy barrel filled to the brim with sweet, carbonated cola.

The shipwright seems to be building some sort of self-automated water filter. That runs on cola.

It seemed a little ironic.

"Ano, Franky-san. Doesn't building a water filter that runs on water seem a little unconventional?"

"Ow! It runs on cola! Cola! Not water! This SUPER~ water filter only uses a drop of cola worth of power to filter litres of water!" The shipwright exclaimed, slamming those oversized arms to the side in his SUPER pose.

He blinks. Now that seemed more useful.

"Yohohoho~ What an incredible invention! I've never seen a thing like it! Though I have no eyes to see with... Yohohoho~! Skull joke~!" He laughs, wriggling around with slightly tearing eyes.

Though he has none to tear with.

Yohohoho~! Skull joke~!

How does his mind come up with these unique and unusual people?

He is absolutely certain he would never have thought a man would be brave enough to strut around in nothing but a speedo.

And yet, see here, there is one.

It is torturous, to know that this is all still but a hallucination, to know that it will never be real, all simply within his mind.

This always happens whenever he sleeps on his broken ship.

These people are so lively and energetic, it's almost a waste of imagination.

"Oi! Skeleton-Bro! Pass that barrel over!"

It's heavy.

He yawns.

Yes, such a waste.

* * *

Day 4 Night

He feels only a little drowsy. That slightly heavy feeling over his non-existent eyelids seemed present.

He yawns.

The shipwright was on first watch, climbing to the crow's nest as everyone else entered their cabins. The captain bounced towards him.

"Brook! Play a lullaby again!" The captain asked with big puppy-dog eyes as the crew glanced expectantly at him.

He smiled.

"Of course, Luffy-san." He reached over to his violin, invisibly lethargic, before pulling his heavy arm back. The smooth wave of melody gently tugged on their eyelids, prompting the crew to head for their beds.

The melody flowed on until he was sure nearly everyone was soundly asleep. The violin was put away as he readied himself for yet another sleepless night.

His breathing seems to have become heavier from playing that little tune.

Entering the cabin, careful to disturb no one, he soundlessly floated across the floor, climbing onto his hammock easily as he pulled the covers over himself.

He stared.

Sleep was gently tugging at his eyelids, though he had none, but he continued staring. The dark shadows that danced above him could already be memorised.

Sleep just wanted him to give in to her temptations, then she'll cruelly transport him back into that foggy, dark sea.

That silent, silent place.

He stares.

He could hear the door open, footsteps heavy in the quiet room as the shipwright made his way to the doctor. Apparently the second watch was the little doctor's.

There were quiet, muffled sounds of awakening, and of being shook awake. He is aware that the door creaks gently open, then as silently as possible close.

The hammock vibrate slightly, then jerks heavily. The shipwright must not be a very stealthy person. He feels the bouncing of his hammock as the shipwright attempts to climb on. The hammocks next to theirs sway slightly. Miraculously no one had been disturbed from sleep.

Heavy sleepers. He is slightly jealous.

Sleep still mocks him, weighing down his eyelids, though he had none, his mind cheekily mocks, reminding him yet again that this would all disappear should he succumb.

It is quite cruel.

He stares.

He yawns.

The door gently creaks open, he hears gentle tapping of hoofs across the floor.

Then he hears a sound that resembled landing from a height. Albeit loud to be honest.

"Sanji! You might wake the others!" Hushed whispers came in the form of squeaks from the doctor.

"Nah, they're too heavily asleep to wake up. I might as well get a head start on breakfast since I'm up earlier." The cook replies, then a rustle of a jacket and he opens the door, closing it fast but gently.

The doctor slowly tiptoed across the floor, then hops onto his bed with minimum rocking, before falling asleep almost immediately.

He stares.

Laying down on the hammock staring into blank space is actually really boring, even with sleep looming over him. He sits up.

The sun would rise soon, and he might as well get up earlier, perhaps playing a few tunes in the morning would relieve him of his sleep deprived stress. Or maybe keep him in this lovely dream longer.

He yawns.

Those memories of the beautiful taste of food and that incredibly trobbing pain should be enough to convince him, even a little more, that this was not a dream.

It didn't seem like one though.

If he did succumb to sleep's pull, would he wake to find that it was but a dream?

Maybe this was a dream, a fantasy, a nightmare, taunting him while he rested in that shadowy, humid sea.

Wouldn't be the first time.

He lands lightly beside the hammock, and opened the door. Glancing around, he heads for the only place with lights on at the moment, the gallery.

The gallery door slides open and he steps in. The tantalizing aromas of frying foods invaded his senses.

He could smell it.

That mouth-watering aroma.

He sits down. The cook glances up.

He expected the cook to question as to why he supposedly awoke, or perhaps apologise for supposedly disturbing his non-existent sleep, or maybe enquire what foods he might prefer. He had an answer ready for them.

"Have you been sleeping?" The cook questions.

He hadn't expected that.

"Excuse me?" He didn't have a ready answer. The cook narrows his eyes.

"I asked, you shitty skeleton, did you sleep at all?" The cook questions again, setting his pan down and turning towards him.

How should he answer that? In fact, how did the cook know? Yesterday? In the cabin?

Why would it matter?

Ah... Or was that question just asked to enquire about whether he had been awoken by the cook, back in the cabin?

"Yohohoho... No worries, Sanji-san. You didn't disturb my sleep, I was already awake." He replies. It should be what the question was asking.

But that didn't seem to be the case. The cook visibly frowns further.

"No, that's not what I asked. I asked if you slept at all." The cook says, eyes watching him closely.

He froze.

What can he reply? What should he reply?

Why should it matter?

The cook sighs.

"Che. So you didn't." The cook straightens up and returns to preparing breakfast, adding the finishing touches.

He blinks.

"Yohohoho~ Why do you ask?" He is curious. Why would whether or not he slept affect his imagination?

Maybe because they were real?

No, that couldn't be right.

The cook didn't even pause his cooking.

"Because, you shitty skeleton, we're not disappearing anytime soon." The cook simply states, not even looking up from his finishing touches to the breakfast.

He tensed.

"Sanji! Breakfast!" A very recognizable voice slams open the door. The rubber captain comes bouncing in. The cook's veins pops.

"Wait until I'm done! You shitty gomu!" The captain goes flying out the gallery door from a powerful kick.

"Eh!.. But I'm hungry now!" The captain complains, bouncing right back in.

He's not really listening closely anymore.

His mind keeps repeating those words, repeating them, repeating like a broken stereo.

_We're not disappearing anytime soon._

Really?

* * *

**Reviews are like cookies.**

**They taste good,**

**feel good,**

**make you addicted to them**

**and encourage you to work faster.**


End file.
